


Shelter

by Angie13



Category: Jem and the Holograms
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angie13/pseuds/Angie13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raya can't quite keep a certain set of events or a certain person from cropping up in her mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



“It’s been a while. I wonder...” Raya trailed off as she shifted her weight to lean more firmly on the windowsill, gaze unfocused on the rain falling outside.

Aja looked up at the drummer, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. Her hands stilled in turning pages in the magazine she had been idly reading. She carefully studied the pensive look just barely revealed in the downturn of Raya’s mouth, the angle she held her head. “What’s that?” she finally prompted when the other woman left the silence settle. 

Raya shook her head. “Nothing.” Turning, she offered up one of her soft, sweet smiles. “I think I’m going for a walk,” she announced. “Tell the others I’ll be back in time for practice.” She waited only long enough for Aja to nod, clearly puzzled, before she slipped from the room.

She paused at the front door to consider umbrellas and raincoats for a moment. It was April, though, and the rain would be warm and the earth smelling of life and dampness so she decided against extra layers. She wanted to feel the rain. At least a little bit, she mentally corrected as she picked up a violently yellow umbrella on impulse. She suspected it was Ashley’s and knew the girl wouldn’t mind so long as it came back in one piece.

Once through the door, Raya paused just long enough on the generous porch to flick the little hidden button with her thumb and the umbrella obediently with a click and a snap. The movement was a little showy, fairly dramatic, and she could not help but laugh a bit as she shouldered the umbrella with a flourish. It seemed like one of Shana’s old movies. What was it? Oh, yes. Singin’ in the Rain. She felt the earlier melancholy lift slightly and settled the umbrella more firmly before setting off down the long driveway with easy, swinging steps. A vague, almost tuneless hum started low in the back of her throat.

She wondered... More importantly, she wondered why she wondered after nearly four months. Should it matter? Did it matter?

*

By the time Raya had reached the little coffee shop, the rain had increased to the point where puddles littered the sidewalks and water had wicked up the hems of her pants to mold the already fitted fabric more determinedly to her clammy skin. Perhaps, she thought, a four mile walk in the rain was not the best plan in the world.

But she felt better, somehow, for the long ramble. As if she had sorted out some of the weight that had settled into her mind and rested heavy in her thoughts. While she honestly could not guess why she had suddenly been thinking of Clash again after so many months, the memory of the masquerade and the tour and the bitter discomfort of not being able to help felt just as necessary at that moment when she had looked out the window as anything else. Raya knew what it felt like to be in a tenuous situation, to want so desperately to be accepted and kept. At least she had her family but poor Clash refused even that. 

As she stood under the overhang in front of the shop, Raya shook out her umbrella and closed it and thought about the sadness in Video’s eyes that lasted for weeks after the entire mess over the clips. The other girls could move past that expression on their friend but Raya couldn’t. Not when she knew it was such a perfect mirror to her own feelings. Yet she had kept her thoughts to herself and only sometimes rested a hand on the blonde’s shoulder in silent support and sympathy.

Raya could not imagine willfully rejecting family. The very thought seemed like something from movies. Whether the family was blood or choice, it meant the world. She bit her lip, reflecting that Clash had tried to choose her own family so often, following the Misfits with a loyalty Pizzaz only abused. After watching the fierce young woman storm out of the studio that day, chasing her dream all over again, Raya almost followed her. Her fingers had itched to reach out and stop her and draw her close. Jem’s words did not shift the pain. Pizzazz’s words did not cut the ties.

She wondered still if a touch could have succeeded where words failed. If she had reached out and taken Clash’s arm, would the hurt and anger have melted away? She thought of Clash’s instinctive move at the circus, her protective hands warm on Raya’s shoulders as she pushed her to safety. The memory made her shiver. She should have returned the rescue. She could have made Clash see and understand. Not just about friendship but about herself. How smart and secretly sweet she was and how she was so lonely. As lonely as Raya had been. 

Standing in line, Raya stared blankly ahead of her as she teased at alternative endings to the story. Clash as a Hologram. Clash as herself but happy. Clash as a friend, a contributor, a talent in her own right... Clash smiling that shy, beautiful little smile.

“So... Funny thing, seeing you here.”

Raya started at the voice and felt her breath catch as she turned in slow motion. Simple words, cocky and brash and still slightly defensive as if the owner expected the world to block her every happiness. She registers the blue eyes first, then the uncertain quirk of the mouth. “Clash,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Long moments pass and Clash suddenly shifted her eyes to look somewhere over Raya’s shoulder. “I’m just getting coffee.”

“Okay.” Without thinking, Raya reached forward and tangled her fingers with Clash’s. Just a touch. “Let’s get coffee together.”

Her suggestion is met with a tightening of touch and that lovely smile and the sun came out.


End file.
